Another night knitting. Knit knit knit. Gromit studiously worked on his new sweater for Wallace, who was busy on a new invention. Something about the pulse, maybe. Or was that impulse?
A large explosion rocked the foundation for the third time that week, and it was only Monday. Not again. But whether it was an explosion of success or failure remained to be seen.
“Gromit,” wheezed Wallace, covered in ash and soot. “Old lad. What am I doing with my life? I’ve fallen for three women in my whole life, including a murderer and a cheese-hater. I’m bald, Gromit. And I’ve blown up so many times, I have no eyebrows.”
Gromit looked at his friend with sympathy, but just wanted to get back to knitting.
“I’ve decided, old boy. We’re going to have a cracking night out, Gromit! No! A GRAND night out!”
Gromit rolled his eyes. Mid-life crisis? Or maybe that machine made him impulsive. He liked Wallace, but he really liked a quiet night.
“Oh, Gromit. We’ll go to a dog-friendly bar so you can really wag your tail at a lady! That poodle found a new owner and she moved, remember? I bet you’re quite lonesome!”
Yes, he couldn’t forget Fluffles. Her new owner was much more caring, and he didn’t want to get in the way of that. They still wrote, but it was clearly over. Maybe Wallace was right. Maybe a new woman could get him out of his funk.
Wallace left the house in a dapper suit and tie, while Gromit sported a scarf. They walked six blocks to get to The Crack in the Wall. They entered the bar and…
It was full of trendy young people. Wallace shuffled his feet.
“Oh Gromit, oh no! I don’t want to rob the cradle! Why, they’re practically children! Let’s go, lad.” As he turned to leave, an exotic young woman with a tongue stud pulled his arm.
“Hey man, like, hashtag great suit! I’m Kayla and this is my pug, Curie!” She grinned broadly. “Dance with me a bit, love?”
“Well… you only live once, right? Although I have been working on a reincarnation machine for years that– WHOA!” She pulled him onto the dance floor. He danced oddly, but she was polite and copied his moves.
Gromit approached the bar. A lady bartender approached him. “Pick your poison, doggie.” He pointed to the whiskey. She poured him a glass and added “On the house, Rover.” He inhaled the drink.
“Out on the town for a bit of love, love? I must warn you, tonight… the ladies are all dogs.” She wasn’t kidding. He hated pugs, but a bulldog? A chihuahua? Where were the Great Danes? He’d even settle for a labradoodle. He wasn’t only into looks, but everyone is entitled to liking their types.
The song ended and Kayla took Wallace to a table. “Like what’s your name, man?”
“Wallace,” he beamed.
“Cool. Cool. Got a last name?”
“Oh, yes!” he smiled.
A minute passed. “Okay then. So why are you here, Wallace?”
“Ah, to have a nice evening out. No, a GRAND NIGHT out!”
“I see.”
“What do you do for a living?” he asked.
“I’m an inventor. I created an app that makes dieting easier!”
“I’m also an inventor! I’ve created robot trousers, a space ship, a bed that drops you into your clothes in the morning…”
The hipster bent over the table and whispered something in his ear. He blushed.
“I-I-I-I-I couldn’t! The very idea! Sell my inventions! Ms. Kayla, they’re not public-ready!”
“So when will they be ready?” she posed.
Wallace paused. “I… I don’t know. My contraptions always have a bug in them.”
“Well, I’ve got to dash off. Nice meeting you.”
Back at the bar, the bartender was telling Gromit about her favorite dogs. “And huskies. Aren’t they gorgeous creatures?”
Gromit nodded wildly. Finally, here was someone else who got it right.
“Gromit, we’re leaving. Say goodbye to the nice lady.”
Gromit waggled his fingers, half-drunk from the free refills she gave him.
“Bye, doggie. Come back any time, yeah?”
At home, Gromit put his sweater aside and passed out on his bed. What a grand night out.
Not so for Wallace, who spent the night tinkering and clanking. He was going to sell one invention if it killed him.
The next morning, Gromit’s head pounded. He felt the night more than made up for it.
Wallace called him to the ground floor. Gromit trudged, each footstep pounding into his head. When would this nightmare end?
A small device covered in a cloth was displayed on the table. “I’ve checked this over and over. It won’t explode, attack, or fall in love with its owner. I present… The Grommie!”
He unveiled a robot dog that resembled Gromit.
“Watch this, lad. Grommie, sit.”
It sat.
“Fetch!”
It fetched.
“Speak!”
It didn’t speak.
“I programmed it to be mute to be like you, lad.”
Tears welled up in Gromit’s eyes. He hugged Wallace, who was also crying.
“We’re going to live the good life now, Gromit. And I think that impulsive nature left me. But what say we visit The Crack in the Wall tonight anyway?”
Gromit rubbed his temples. Not tonight, it seemed.
Storytime With The Raconteur 